


Brer

by magicalballerinaprincess



Category: No Evil (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:45:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalballerinaprincess/pseuds/magicalballerinaprincess
Summary: After Kitty gets fed up with her vegetables going missing, she hatches a plan to catch the culprit. How the gang (or Kitty) meets Wrip.





	Brer

    “I don’t mind you stealin’ a few carrots and such from my garden - a few’ll get dug up by critters anyhow - but this is gettin’ absurd,” Kitty lectured. “Ten carrots in one evenin’? One or both of you is up to something, and I expect you to explain yerselves.”

    “I _swear_ I didn’t do nothin’!” Huey retorted indignantly.

    “That there’s a double negative, Huey,” Kitty said scornfully. “Means you did _somethin’.”_

    “Nope, he didn’t do anything,” Calamity said, wrapping her arm around him. Even if she wanted to say the same thing Huey did, Icky had lectured her on grammar enough and Kitty was in a bad enough mood that she wouldn’t risk it. “Me neither.”

    Kitty glowered. “Well, you’re not leaving here ‘til I get some answers.”

    “Well then, Huey... looks like we’ll be here a while,” said Calamity, plopping down in the dirt. She teetered a little before she regained her balance.

    Huey plopped down next to her, squeezing his eyes shut in exasperation. “I knew I shoulda brought my coloring book.”

    It’d been about two years since Murder and the triplets had sacrificed their senses and Murder’s life, but the land was still heavily scarred. Last spring, Kitty had started a little garden to save costs - tomatoes, some herbs, other foodstuffs. In an instant, it had become her favorite project; all throughout the spring and summer you could see her working in the garden, with Quetzalcoatl watching in awe. Sometimes he even “helped” by clumsily watering the plants while Kitty pulled weeds, and for a while he’d ask every day if the corn was ready - earning him the nickname “Corn” from Huey. (Though he didn’t really ask - he started speaking later than other kids, but when he started, he’d never say words without meaning something. Icky said it was impressive.)

    “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuughh..,” Huey slumped forward, chest down and tail up. Soon he was lying flat on his stomach. “I didn’ steal it! There’s food in Hatfield now!” He whined.

    “Yeah! And Icky won’t let me go out after eight. No way did I steal it!” Calamity added. “Can we go now? It’s been hours!”

    “It’s been ten minutes, Calamity.” Kitty’s voice still had an edge to it, but not quite as scornful as before. _They do have a point,_ she reflected. 

    “Whatever, same difference.”

    “All right,” Kitty said. Not a heartbeat after she continued “You may go,” the two troublemakers sprang up, whooping loudly as they raced.

    “Race you to the hideout!”

    “No fair, you’re faster than me!”

    Soon the pair were out of sight, their cheering fading into the distance. Kitty hadn’t moved, lost in thought. _No animal would eat that much in one night, and not many of ‘em make it through the briars. A human might’ve done it, but us spirits are a long way aways from the towns - a long hike to do somethin’ needlessly dangerous. Folks know better than to anger a spirit. So who, or what, in the thirteen heavens, could be responsible?_ Kitty needed a plan. A trap. Something someone smart would fall for -

    Her train of thought came to a halt as her eyes rested on the scarecrow.

    Soon it was chugging again, however, as she got up and brushed herself off. She needed Paula to take her on a little shopping trip to Hollow.

 

* * *

 

 _Twitch._ A young spirit’s long ears wiggled in the moonlight, alert to all noise and movement. Other than her, there was none.

    _Yup, all clear,_ she thought slyly. _And even the scarecrow’s in the same place as always._ With a tiny push of her legs, she sailed over the fence and briars, landing with less noise than the drop of a pin and more precision than the fall of a feather. Gleefully, she tiptoed (though she was always tiptoeing - it was her brand by that point) to the scarecrow, which stood between the corn, tomatoes, and carrots - the tomatoes looked splendid. Kneeling, she laid her hand on the scarecrow to steady herself, threadbare wicker basket ready to gather as much as could fi-

    _Yank._ She couldn’t move forward! Her hand - her hand was stuck!

    Whipping around, she kicked the scarecrow with as much force as she could pack in her powerful legs. _Was this scarecrow bewitched? Why won’t it let me go?_ She panicked. Her feet made contact to the thing with a loud _crack._

    A few seconds of silence passed.

    _Oh, shoot,_ thought the thief, realization hitting her like a pound of bricks. _My feet are stuck too._

_Creak..._ Interrupted, the little spirit became sharply aware that the scarecrow was leaning, falling closer and closer to her squishy insides -

“AAAAAA!”

 

* * *

 

Kitty snapped upright in bed. She had woken a few seconds earlier, though not sure why, and been trying to drift back to sleep - but the scream startled her to full consciousness. Not hesitating a moment, she grabbed the gas lamp by her bedside and absconded through the dark, grasping her nightgown for easier running. Slamming the door open, she was ready to catch the thief red-handed!

... _Or black-handed, I suppose,_ Kitty observed, extending her light. _And even black-footed._ The culprit had both hands and feet drenched in tar, some dripping on her as she supported it. What surprised Kitty most is that the culprit was a spirit - a young girl, not a week older than Calamity, and judging by the long ears and legs, a rabbit spirit.

Kitty’s eyes narrowed. “What are ye called?”

Knocked out of her daze of fear and confusion, the rabbit-spirit donned a polite smile. “I’m Wrip!” A drop of tar sploshed on her cheek. “And I understand if you want to punish me. I’ve done the wrong thing. You can hit me, hang me, or boil me in a stew; whatever you do, please don’t throw me in the briar patch!” Wrip begged, concealing the crafty smile she wanted to display. _Wonder if she’ll fall for that one. Ha! It’s the oldest trick in the book!_

Kitty made made no response. She fixed the little spirit with a cold, hard stare, taking in the tar, and dirt, and bits of tomato guts in the scraggly figure’s hair.

“The only place I’m throwing _you,”_ Kitty said at last, gently wrenching Wrip free with the help of the rake on the wall, “is in the _bath.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Wrip's dramatics are so fun to write, lol. Something unfortunate happens to her? The icy fingers of death approach.
> 
> Coloring books were called painting books back in the 1800s, but deicded to keep it coloring.
> 
> Based on the story of brer rabbit and the tar baby, hence the title.


End file.
